Chapter 134 – The Temple of Memories (1)

Starlight rained down from the fractured sky, drenching the blood-soaked earth.

Wind howled. Flames erupted. Lightning crackled. Water surged. The ground shattered.

With each attack, dozens, sometimes hundreds, of monsters fell, tumbling down the hillside.

“Haa… How many
are
there…? Kuh…
spit
…” Serr gasped, glaring at Vishur.

“What kind of…incompetent leadership…allows this…?” She gestured to the teeming horde, her voice strained.

Vishur didn’t answer, too focused on hacking through the monsters clawing their way up the hillside, their bodies piling up, forming a grotesque staircase of flesh and bone.

The sickening sound of tearing flesh was his only reply.

Serr clicked her tongue, surveying the scene below.

Hell. A landscape of blood and gore beneath a bruised, weeping sky.

Rivers of blood flowed, carrying chunks of flesh, some tiny, some the size of a human head, all writhing and pulsing as if seeking to rejoin their broken bodies.

And where the flow slowed…

[Those…are no longer human…]

…the flesh coalesced, forming grotesque parodies of human shapes. A macabre puppet show, limbs mismatched, heads replaced with torsos, branches protruding from empty sockets.

Anything with limbs crawled and clawed, dragging themselves forward.

Those reaching the top of the hill were…horrific. Empty eye sockets, lungs pulsing in gaping mouths, intestines spilling from torn bellies.

The stench was overwhelming, the texture of their flesh…repulsive. Even the smell of rotting corpses was preferable to
this
.

“How many times do I have to tell you?! Destroy the
core
!” Serr snapped, launching an ice spike. It pierced a monster’s central mass, and the creature dissolved into light.

“Hah…ngh…ugh…” Vishur gasped, his body trembling with exhaustion.

“A single stab with your rapier! Is it that difficult?!” Serr unleashed a torrent of magic—fire, wind, lightning, earth, light, darkness—a whirlwind of destruction tearing through the horde.

“Gah…Kuh…!”

A spirit of light descended, entering the gaping wound in Vishur’s abdomen.

He choked, blood bubbling from his lips, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Serr grabbed him, shaking him roughly.

“Hey! No time for naps! Get up and fight!”

Radiant light bloomed, healing Vishur’s wounds.

“Ugh…the sun…it’s been up for fifty hours…” he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

“Why are you
crying
?”

“…I miss…gentle healing…”

He pulled away from Serr, wiping the blood from his face.

“Thank you…Lady Serr… I can…fight…a little longer…” He retrieved his rapier, looking up at the sky.

“The sun…is truly…high…”

At the zenith, a black sun radiated its dark light.

“They’re not even hiding it anymore… It’s almost…as if…they’re
ready
…”

“Stop talking and kill something. Save the existential dread for later.”

“Hmph…”

But Serr’s gaze was drawn to the crimson barrier in the distance.

Noah, alone, inside.

“We can’t kill them all. We have to…buy time.”

Not that retreat was an option.

They had to hold the Temple of Memories until reinforcements arrived.

Vishur nodded, his expression grim, then vanished in a blur, the sickening sound of tearing flesh echoing in his wake.

His rapier, a crimson blur, darted through the horde, severing limbs with brutal efficiency. Serr followed, delivering the finishing blows.

And then…they appeared.

Two figures, radiating overwhelming power.

Not incomplete. Not even complete.

True Masters.

Vishur reappeared at Serr’s side, his breath ragged.

“Lady Serr!”

“Report.”

“Masters—”

“Retreat. Take your people and go.” Serr’s voice was calm, her gaze fixed on the approaching Masters. She gestured towards the remnants of the Cartia forces. “This is a suicide mission. Go. Now.”

“But—”

“You might survive.
They
won’t. Go.”

Serr turned, summoning her spirits, a swirling mass of energy, and moved towards the Masters.

“Distract those…things…on your way out. The stench is…offensive.”

Vishur hesitated, then smacked himself across the face, a strange, almost ritualistic gesture. He pulled out his communication crystal, running towards the Cartia forces.

“Vishur here. Masters have arrived. Roy. And Karok. So…” He swallowed hard. “…let’s die. Together.”

“…What are you doing?” Serr asked, watching him go.

“Giving orders.”

A distant roar echoed from the Cartia lines. Vishur smiled grimly, pocketing the crystal.

“No objections, it seems.”

“If you’re so eager to die, I can oblige.”

“I’ll pass. I prefer a more…
dramatic
exit.” He glanced at the crimson barrier in the distance. “And I have…apologies to make.”

“Spare me the melodrama.”

“Oh, you dislike that sort of thing? So do I. How…refreshing.” He raised his battered rapier, its blade dulled, half its guard broken off. “I should have brought a better weapon. Saving it was a mistake.”

“That toothpick won’t even scratch them.”

“A rapier isn’t for blocking. It’s for…
redirection
.”

Serr snorted, looking him up and down. He was covered in wounds, and yet…

“Do as you please.”

She dispersed her spirits, sending them to reinforce the Cartia lines.

Vishur bowed his head as the spirits flew towards his retreating forces.

“…Thank you.”

“Hurry. If you want to…
live
.”

Serr watched him go, then bit her finger, the blood rising into the air before it could fall, forming a thin, crimson line.

[You wish to save them?]

‘They’ll make…adequate meat shields.’

[Are you certain?]

‘If it were just the two Masters…maybe. But with all those…
things
…I’m not optimistic.’

Serr clicked her tongue, extending her hand towards the crimson line.

[The price—]

‘Your pinky finger. Ten years of torment should cover it. Consider it a bargain.’

The crimson line flared, turning a brilliant silver-white.

[…Insolent brat.]

‘And you were just calling me “my child.”’ Serr smirked, turning to Vishur.

“Their target…is the Temple of Memories.”

“I know!” Vishur shouted, slashing through the horde, wiping blood from his mouth.

“Then its defense…is our highest priority.”

“Understood.”

“Two Masters. Seventy-nine completed Masters.”

And roughly one hundred thousand monsters.

“If you die…die after Rubia and Noah arrive.”

As Serr finished speaking, the silver-white line expanded.

BOOM!

A massive gate, connecting this world to the Spirit Realm, opened.

“If you do…your name…will be remembered.”

Thousands of incomplete Masters swarmed towards Serr.

Unfazed, she gestured gracefully, and dozens of high-ranking spirits materialized, consuming the creatures.

Vishur, caught up in the fervor, charged into the horde.

Serr, a slender figure radiating catastrophic power, became a beacon of hope, her magic illuminating the battlefield.

The roar of the Cartia forces rose again, mingled with the sickening sounds of death, the monstrous growls, and…

…the voices of the Masters.

[They’re coming.]

‘I know.’ Serr summoned her remaining spirits. From the massive gate behind her, two colossal figures emerged.

Two of the three highest-ranking spirits. Ablon. And Rin.

[Karma is still recovering.]

Strong enough for the completed Masters, but not for the true Masters.

But Serr didn’t hesitate.

Rin raised her hands, conjuring a meteor shower. Ablon stood before her, overturning the earth, deflecting the incoming attacks.

High and mid-ranking spirits swarmed the battlefield, while Serr’s protective spirits shielded her. Lower-ranking spirits bolstered the Cartia forces.

The meteors began their descent, a fiery rain threatening to shatter the sky.

The Masters moved.

Karok, wielding his massive two-handed sword, drew his blade, slicing through dozens of meteors in a single stroke.

Roy raised his staff, unleashing a wave of icy flame that consumed the burning fragments.

“Are they even
human
?” Serr muttered.

[You’re hardly one to talk.]

“Tsk.”

Serr placed her hand on Ablon’s back as Rin prepared her next attack.

The Masters unleashed their power.

The black sun pulsed, its dark light intensifying. The stench of blood thickened, choking the air. Despair deepened, swallowing the last vestiges of hope.

Karok sheathed his massive blade. Roy’s staff twisted, consuming his arm, absorbing the blood staining the earth.

Their target: the Temple of Memories.

Summon every spirit for a final stand? Futile.

Dismantle the summoning ritual?

But then…who would stop Karok?

She had to think. Find a solution.

To counter this…she had to transcend the natural order herself.

A sudden
click
echoed through her chaotic thoughts, the harbinger of disaster.

And then—
smack
—a blur of motion. Pale blonde hair, violet eyes blazing with bloodlust.

Hermilla.

Appearing out of nowhere, she kicked Karok’s arm—

CLANG!

—and punched Roy in the face.

“Honestly. Mages.” She smirked. “So predictable.”